Uncle Darian watched her closely. “You are preoccupied, Karalynna. Have been since the raid. Do not think I haven’t noticed.”
“I’m fine.”
“House Thorne did their duty–”
At this, Kara pulled a face and said, “Ah, yes. For peace, they sacrifice. Even if it means killing unarmed boys–”
Darian’s expression sharpened. “Do not sneer their creed, Karalynna.”
“I was only saying–”
“Between these walls, you know I share your distaste. They are brutes who present violence as virtue.” He ran a hand through his grey hair. “But publicly? You must be civil. As we all must be. Do you think Lord Thorne won’t notice at the Ball if you are not? Do you think his son won’t?”
“I wasn’t exactly planning on spending the evening in the company of the Thorne heir, Uncle.”
He continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “Although our Houses disagree about many things, Vallenna requires all skills of the eight. Even the unpleasant ones.”
“I know, I know. Unity above all,” Kara said, though the words tasted bitter.
“Precisely.”
But Hale and Thorne didn’t mix. Not beyond what their duties to the High Council demanded. And Kara had never seen a reason to argue with that.
“You mustn’t let your emotions show so easily. Not everyone will be forgiving. Your father would be most displeased if you caused offence.”
Kara held back the words she didn’t dare speak.
Don’t think. Don’t feel. Just smile and obey.
“Yes, Uncle.”
Quick footsteps echoed in the corridor. Kara looked up as the library doors opened and her mother stepped into the room.
“That will be the Lyran blood in her, Darian,” she said, smiling. “We have always been an emotional people.”
Darian gave her a tight smile in return. “Yes, my lady.”
Kara glanced curiously at her mother. Eliyana Hale was effortlessly graceful, willowy and poised, wearing her ash-blonde hair in a braid over her shoulder, silver threads now at her temples. Kara had inherited both her height and green eyes from her mother, but her own hair was a deep ebony – her father’s colouring.
“Kara, darling, your father wishes to speak with you in his study.”
Uncle Darian gave a curt nod and she rose to follow her mother out of the room, down the torch-lit corridors, the faint scent of lavender in the air. Her mind raced. Her father rarely summoned her to his study. Rarely spoke with her at all. Kara fiddled with her braid. Although Eliyana looked calm enough, she felt her emotions like a wave. Anxiety. Frustration. The Lyran affinity Kara had never been able to switch off, no matter how much her father had wanted her to. She usually found the latent magic useful. Right now it was doing absolutely nothing to reassure her.
As they approached the oak door to her father’s study, her mother gave her an encouraging smile, then stepped back.
“He asked to see you alone,” she said.
Only Lord and heir, then. Kara watched her retreat before knocking lightly.
“Enter,” came her father’s voice.
She stepped inside. Lord Alaric Hale stood by the open window across the room, hands clasped behind his back, gazing down at the gardens below. His cloak billowed around him in the late-summer breeze – the only thing that moved. He didn’t turn when she entered.
“Sit, Karalynna.”
She sat in the armchair by the hearth and waited. Alaric didn’t sit with her – only turned to face her, his dark eyes measured. “The match has been agreed. Henry Caldris will be your betrothed. The announcement will be made at the Autumnal Ball.”
Kara’s fingers gripped the arms of the chair hard. “I see.”
